


Redemption

by KabiViolet



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Guilt, Introspection, Love, Morality, My First Work in This Fandom, Redemption, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KabiViolet/pseuds/KabiViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Redemption was a strange concept.</p><p>Hawke understood the idea of it, but in practice, it seemed more like a fairy tale – something mothers told their children to scare them or make them behave. Some misdeeds were easily reconciled. But there were other acts – other sins – that were not so easily forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>A post-game reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the characters belong to Bioware.

Redemption was a strange concept.

Hawke understood the idea of it, but in practice, it seemed more like a fairy tale – something mothers told their children to scare them or make them behave. Some misdeeds were easily reconciled. But there were other acts – other _sins_ – that were not so easily forgotten.

Stealing and smuggling for Athenril. Clearly, that was unacceptable behavior in polite society. Illegal. Immoral. But at the time, she’d had no choice. It was either that or become a sort of hitman for Meeran. Stealing seemed the lesser of two evils.

Then there were the years of riches while living in Hightown. Was it really right to continue to do underhanded jobs and live abundantly off the backs of workers in the Bone Pit? Was it really wrong either?

Since leaving Lothering, Hawke had killed countless numbers of enemies, and most of them were _not_ darkspawn – just ordinary people trying to survive.

People just like her.

Well, not _exactly_ like her. Most of the people she had killed were not apostate mages. Most of them could walk down the street in the sunlight and not fear the Templars’ wrath and scorn. Their activities may have been illegal, but their very _being_ was not.

Hawke sighed and bent down to fill the two flasks she had brought to the creek. The water was cold, but it reflected the clear night sky above – her own reflection the only darkness blocking the light of the distant stars.

With the second flask filled, she turned back and headed for the light of the camp. She walked slowly, breathing in the chilly night air and relishing the freedom of it. Here, there was no one to hide from. Here, her very essence was not under constant scrutiny. Here, underneath the night sky and shrouded by the forest, she felt truly free.

And yet, as she approached the small camp and the light of the fire became brighter, Hawke returned briefly to her previous doubts.

Certain acts could be redeemed, it seemed. She could make amends for anything she had stolen or smuggled. It wasn’t a problem if it could be fixed with money, not really. And the lives she had taken – those could never be returned, but didn’t she have a just cause for taking all of them? Didn’t she always fight for her family or to help the oppressed? Who was to say that those people deserved to live more than she did? Weren’t they all equal in the sight of the Maker? Perhaps those acts didn’t _need_ redemption.

But as the light of the fire illuminated the face of the man sitting beside it, the man she had run away with, Hawke feared that this act was one she could not atone for.

“I was beginning to worry,” he said as she left the cover of the trees behind her. “Almost sent out a search party.” He smiled tenderly at her as he pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled her into his embrace.

“Sorry to make you worry. Just enjoying the night air,” she said softly, taking a seat next to him and avoiding his eyes, but she could feel him watching her.

“Everything alright, love?” he said gently as he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

Love.

She looked up into the warm, honey-colored eyes of the man beside her. His face etched with concern as one loose, blonde hair found its way down his forehead and blocked one of those mesmerizing eyes.

Love.

She smiled back at him and brushed the stray hair out of his face.

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

Love. There was no redemption for that. There was no redemption for her love of this man. This apostate.

This murderer.

But when she looked into his eyes, she didn’t see a man who had murdered dozens, maybe hundreds of people. She saw the man she loved and the man who loved her. And to her, that was all that mattered.

That was her sin. Her unforgivable sin.

He kissed her then. She returned his kisses and his touch. His body engulfed her while his deft hands warmed her skin in the cool night air. She gasped as their bodies collided and stared past the mess of blonde hair entwined in her fingers, at the cold, distant stars that mocked and judged her from afar.

But in the moment of her ecstasy, when her love exploded in a flash of white stars that blurred the real ones above her, she understood redemption.

Redemption was a self-made concept. One person might think that a certain deed could make up for a wrong one, but another person would disagree with the first. In the end, all that mattered was what _she_ felt would redeem her.

In that moment, she wished for no redemption. If loving this man in her arms was a sin, then she wanted to be sinful.

She smiled back at the unfeeling stars and whispered her own redemption – her acceptance.

“I love you, Anders.”


End file.
